


I'm Comin' Home

by BuckytheDucky



Category: Leverage
Genre: Idiot Eliot, Multi, Parker spends too much time with Sophie, Sophie fixes things, blink-and-you-miss-it White Collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 06:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10183115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckytheDucky/pseuds/BuckytheDucky
Summary: Eliot actively avoids getting involved, forces himself to stay away from Parker and Hardison's relationship - no matter how much it's hurting him. But Sophie won't let that stand.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IndigoNight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/gifts).



> Thanks to IndigoNight, for all the enabling, and all the headcanons we've exchanged over the course of 2 days. This is for you~

The first thing he notices when he walks into the office for a job, a week after the fact, is that damn Venus flytrap sitting prominently in the middle of the conference table, and Eliot feels his heart clench. But he's had practice, too much practice, in having a straight poker face, so he ignores the tightness in his chest and heads to his seat, ignores the white-hot surge of jealousy at the sight of Parker and Hardison entering the room together. His arm is around her shoulders, and she's leaning into him, smiling that small smile that lights up her eyes - the one she's only ever shown the team but mostly Hardison.

Nate and Sophie are already seated at the table, heads together as they whisper amongst themselves. Sophie’s dark eyes catch Eliot’s even as she continues to talk to their mastermind. Eliot forces a tiny quirk of his lips, but he knows she’ll read him – that’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. He only hopes she won’t try to corner him about whatever she thinks he’s hiding. He drops his gaze to the table, takes a steadying breath, and lets it out slowly. Once everyone is in his or her chair, Nate gestures for Hardison to start up the presentation.

“We’ve received some intel from an associate of a very… Well, an associate of one of the most unconventional pairings we’ve ever heard about, an FBI agent and a supposedly reformed con-man,” announces Nate, and Parker thrusts her hand into the air, a frown on her face.

“What about me and Hardison, and McSweeten?”

Nate sighs, a good-natured huff of breath that means he’s more amused than irritated with her interruption. “McSweeten  doesn’t _know_ you’re a thief or that Hardison is a hacker. He believes you’re both FBI agents, as well. This pair is a legally-bound duo, government-approved and with no lies between them. Well, as little lies as they can get by with.”

Hardison raises an eyebrow, flicks a hand up. “How did an FBI agent get paired up with a – I’m going to assume he’s a grifter.”

“Grifter, art thief, spectacular forger,” interjects Sophie; her voice is full of barely-contained excitement. “He’s… He’s one of the best, beyond anything we’ve encountered before, including Meredith and her ‘black widows’. He was caught after three years of running, but he was so brilliant at what he does, they only managed to convict him of bond forgery. He escaped from prison just a few short months before his time was up and was caught again. After that, he cut a deal with the FBI agent who apprehended him, and now they work together.”

“Anyway, we’re getting off track here, people. This associate…”

Eliot tries to pay attention to the briefing, but he’s distracted through most of it. From the corner of his eye, he sees long blonde hair swaying with Parker’s movements, her pinkie finger twining with Hardison’s, the not-so-subtle shifts toward each other. Eliot’s skin feels tight, too hot, and Nate has barely finished speaking before Eliot is rising to his feet and stalking out of the room. He can hear Sophie’s voice, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to actually hear the words.

By the time the team has formulated a plan and is heading to the job, Eliot has calmed himself, forced his body to stop betraying him. He'd had all of his tells, all of his emotional reactions, trained out of him a long time ago, back when he was a different man – still a boy. Those reactions have come back since he joined the team and only grown worse the longer he allowed his attachment to these people to remain. He shoved a comm unit in his ear at Nate’s nod, and they get to work.

Three days. Three long, gruelling days. That's how long it takes for the team to assist the FBI and the “associate”, a short, stout man with little hair, glasses, and far too much knowledge of criminal activity know-hows. Eliot has to literally drag Parker away from the equipment the man has either obtained through various means or designed himself, and she's less than happy about it, pouting and grumbling the entire way home. Hardison’s calm voice grates on Eliot’s nerves, but he can’t stop himself from wishing he was the one comforting an upset Parker. With a sigh, Eliot closes his eyes, leans his head against the headrest of his seat, and focuses on controlling his breathing.

Last call comes and goes, and the bar is finally empty. Parker has gone off to wherever she goes during the night, Hardison is in his apartment playing his stupid video games, and Sophie and Nate are in his flat, pretending they’re not sleeping together. Eliot snorts derisively into his beer and stares around at the dark bar. The only illumination comes from the streetlamps outside and the string of lights embedded in the frame of the mirror behind the bar. The silence is both welcomed and deafening; his brain won’t stop racing. He swallows the last of his drink, reaching over the counter to draw more from the tap. It’s a soft sound – the barest scrape of a foot along the hardwood floor – but it’s enough to catch his attention. He doesn’t freeze, doesn’t do more than return his ass to the stool, as he concentrates on the person’s walk. Thankfully, he recognises the pattern and doesn’t actually send the knife straight into the person’s throat.

“Thought you went to bed.”

Sophie slides onto the stool next to him; a glass of wine is already positioned carefully between her fingers. “I did. But then I couldn’t sleep.”

“I have ways of makin’ that happen, but I don’t think they’re appropriate for friends.”

“No, I doubt that they are.” She sips from her wineglass before leveling him with an intense gaze. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The flowers were very beautiful.”

“Yeah, Nate did good.”

“I don’t think he did,” she counters, shaking her head with a gentle smile. “Just as I don’t think Hardison was involved, either.”

Eliot’s heart starts racing in his chest, but he swallows another mouthful of beer, somehow managing to keep his voice from shaking as he asks, “What makes you think that?”

“Nate’s rarely that thoughtful, and it wasn’t an elaborate enough gesture to come from Hardison.”

“Your point?”

“My point is, you can’t keep doing this, Eliot. They don’t deserve for you to keep avoiding them. What is going on?”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have…what?”

“This – the whole ‘team’ thing – was supposed to just be a way for me to do some good while havin’ someone watchin’ my back, without me gettin’ killed because I’m doing everything alone. This team was supposed to be an alliance, not a…a family. And I damn sure wasn’t supposed to fuckin’ fall for the two of ‘em. They don’t deserve the kinda shit I’d bring to the table. I’ve got too much blood on my hands, and they deserve –”

Sophie slaps a hand to the bartop, cutting his words off with ruthless efficiency. “They _deserve_ the right to their own decisions! You can tell them all day, every day, that they deserve better than you, but don’t you dare think you can make their choices for them. Parker adores you, you know that. And Hardison thinks you’re one of the best people to ever walk this Earth; you know, as well as I do, that he would do absolutely anything and everything for you, even if it means walking straight into Hell with nothing but his bare hands to get you out. All of us would, but Hardison and Parker? They’d raze this entire planet if you so much as _asked_.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Eliot, I read people, and I’m not boasting unnecessarily when I say I’m incredibly good at what I do. I don’t even need to study them to know it’s true.” She rises to her feet, brushing a hand through his hair delicately. “I suggest you, as Hardison would say, get your shit together, and tell them. You owe it to them. Tell them the truth, tell them that you love them.”

She leaves him alone in the bar, then; Eliot continues staring down at his beer, mulling over what she's said. After twenty minutes of not finding answers in the glass, he stands, leaving the drink on the bar, and makes his way up the stairs. A note is taped to the door of his quarters: _If you don’t, I will._ He chuckles quietly, instantly recognising Sophie’s handwriting. Whether she actually would tell them or not isn’t as clear – she’s quite a gifted grifter, and her lies are always elegantly executed – but Eliot isn’t sure he wants to take the chance. He crumbles the paper in his hand, shoves it deep into his pocket, and makes up his mind.

Five minutes later, the door opens, and Hardison raises an eyebrow at the sight of Eliot standing in the hall. Eliot forces himself to keep his eyes on the hacker’s, not on the stretch of bare skin revealed by the fact that Hardison is wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants.

“What’s up? Don’t tell me there’s already another job.”

“No, nothing like that. Just… Can I come in?”

Hardison steps back, allows Eliot to push past. There’s a half-empty bottle of orange soda sitting beside a large bag of gummi frogs on the coffee table, along with a game controller and headset. An enormous quilted blanket is bunched up on the sofa. Hardison hurriedly removes leftover containers from the dining table, and Eliot suppresses a smile. He refuses the two-liter of soda and sits down on the edge of the coffee table, taking great care not to squash the gummi frogs (he’d done it once, and Hardison had refused to talk to him for a week; Eliot doesn’t want a repeat of that experience).

“You gonna talk any time soon, man, because this is just a bit awkward, just a smidge, but still. What’s going on?”

Eliot sighs, clasping his hands in his lap, and stares down at the carpet. “Is Parker around?”

“Nah, she’s off doing whatever she thinks is a fun way to spend a night off. I can get her back, though, want me to do that? Or, wait, we came up with a compromise that I won’t ask what she does as long as she keeps a comm on her in case of emergencies, give me a second.”

Hardison shuffles around the living room until he comes up with two small in-ear comm units; he hands one to Eliot and stuffs the other one in his own ear. Parker’s even breathing fills the line, and some tension Eliot didn’t realise he was carrying, eases.

_“What’s wrong, Alec?”_

“I have no idea, babe, but Eliot’s here –”

_“Eliot!”_

“Yeah, he’s here, he’s on, he looks like someone, ya know, stole his favourite knife, so wanna help me out here?”

_“What happened?”_

“Hey, Parker. Nothing happened, promise. I just…I wanted to talk to you guys.”

“Well, we’re here, so whenever you’re ready, talk.”

“Okay.” Eliot sighs. “Look, you guys… You got a great relationship, ya know that, right? You’re both really good for each other, and, and I’d hate to see anything mess it up, because you guys are amazing together. In all the time I’ve known you two, I haven’t seen you happier than you are now, now that you have each other, and just… I look at you guys, and I see something beautiful, _pure_. Something I ain’t seen in, well, a very long time. It makes me –”

_“Jealous?”_

Hardison groans. “Babe, we talked about this. You don’t just –”

“Yeah, jealous.”

“Wait, what?”

 _“Are you jealous of us, or_ of _us?”_

“What?” Eliot glances at Hardison, who looks just as confused, and Parker giggles.

_“Are you jealous because we’re in a relationship, and you’re not?”_

“Well… Not, not exactly.”

Silence, or as close to silence as possible with Parker in the wind (literally), falls upon the trio, as Eliot avoids meeting Hardison’s gaze; suddenly, the sound of rushing air cuts out, but they can still hear her breathing, which means she's made it inside whichever building she was scaling. Her voice is strangely serious when she speaks next.

_“Eliot, I know feelings are...difficult for you. They're hard for me, too. But right now, we need you to be completely honest with us, okay? Are you jealous of us being in a relationship together, that excludes you?”_

“Is this going where I think it's going?” Hardison asks quietly.

 _“Hush, Hardison. Eliot, I need an answer._ We _need an answer.”_

Eliot squeezes his eyes shut, brings his hands up to press uncomfortably hard against his eyelids. “ _Yes_ , okay? Yes, I'm jealous of the fact that you two have each other, but...also not because of that. I'm fucking glad you two found one another, but damn it, I hate seein’ you guys together, because it just reminds me that, that you don't need me like you need each other.”

“Eliot, man, we’ll _always_ need you.” Hardison sighs, reaching over to drag Eliot’s hands from his face. “Always. You're our protector, yes, but at the risk of sounding cliché, you're also our lodestar. You keep us safe. You keep us together. You keep us comin’ home.”

 _“You_ are _our home.”_

Hardison moves closer to Eliot, gaze intense and searching. “Why have you never told us?”

“What was I supposed to say? Besides, I couldn't risk fucking everything up.”

“Maybe that you kinda like us as more than teammates and that you potentially want to be in a relationship with us. That coulda worked. Hell, it _is_ working.”

_“You really shoulda said something, Eliot. Nothing you could have said would make us walk away. Well, unless you said you want to kill us, then that might’ve made things a little awkward. Hey, Eliot?”_

Eliot can't stop the laugh at Parker saying his name like ET, the way she always does when she thinks he's being too serious. “Yeah, Parker?”

_“I'm coming home.”_


End file.
